Forlorn
by Elvarde
Summary: On their way to Rivendell, emissaries from Mirkwood encounter three Elves with mysterious powers from another world. These Elves may seem dangerous and vindictive, but they are pursued by the servants of Sauron... Has Thranduil uncovered a hidden threat?
1. Three Is Company

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Middle Earth or J. R. R. Tolkien's amazing little mind. I wish I did, though because I love Middle Earth. I do, however, own everything from Elfwood and Merendor.**

**A/N: This is a CROSSOVER fic. You see, I'm writing a purely original series of fantasy books. It takes place in a world called Merendor in the kingdom of Elfwood. I was reading fanfics last month when I got a crazy idea. I though to myself, man, when I publish my books, I hope someone writes a fanfic and makes it a crossover with LOTR, and then I got an even crazier idea: I decided to write one myself. So...voilà. This is a crossover between LOTR and my series, Dark Ages. I hope somebody out there enjoys it. :-) This is my first time using so I hope I get all this right... Correct me if I do something wrong, prithee.**

**Rating: PG for violence. I absolutely REFUSE to write anything slash or use foul language. I am offended by such things. Got it?**

**Genre: Action/Adventure (my fave!) and Drama! Mwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Oh dear, already an evil laugh? My, my, my, I'm on a roll!**

**Summary: On their way to a council in Rivendell, emissaries from Mirkwood come across three Elves with mysterious powers from another world. One is a genial but suspicious nobleman, and another is a cold, emotionless warrior who speaks about killing people in the same drawl in which he tells the time. Both are extremely overprotective of the third: a young child with the most mysterious powers of all. Thranduil is certain these three are dangerous, but Elrond disagrees. Are Thranduil's suspicions false? Or will the Nazgûl destroy them all before the child's secret can be revealed?**

**I hope you like! Review, please! I could really use some moral support! ;-) Don't be too harsh, please... **

_**Elvarde**_

**Forlorn**

**By Elvarde**

Chapter One: Three Is Company

The snow feel through the air in soft clumps, adding to the thick, white blanket upon the ground. All around was a heavy, impenetrable whiteness, for the sky was wan as well, blotting out all else. Through the falling snowdrops trod a nut-brown horse with its head hanging dejectedly as endlessly it travelled on and on. It was not overburdened, although it bore several bundles and one rider.

This rider was small and scrawny, and he was swathed in a large, black cloak. The cowl enveloped his head entirely, and a woolen scarf was wrapped around his neck so that none of his face showed. Shod in ebony-colored, leather boots and gloved as well, not one bit of his skin could be seen s he rose, silent and unmoving; he was simply a portentous figure in black.

Two companions walked alongside the horse. To the right of the dark rider strode a tall, slim soldier clad in long boots, thick leggings, a tunic and jerkin, and a flowing, birch-grey cloak. The hood had fallen back, allowing snow to be netted in his coffee-colored braids. His stony face flushed from the cold, and his pointed ears had turned quite red. What manner of soldier he was could not be determined, for his array of weapons was rather diversified. Upon his back a quiver of arrows and a longbow were slung. At his left side was a long sword with a short sword at his right, and a bodkin was attached to each sheath. Five throwing knives and six other daggers added to this assortment of weaponry. His only armor consisted of glossy bracers laced to his wrists and smooth gloves with the fingertips cut off. Nevertheless, that fibrous, woven scarf about his neck could possibly be used for garroting people. The color of the scarf matched the icy blue of his cold, emotionless eyes that glared glacially into the whitish distance.

To the left of the rider, an even taller warrior led the horse by the reigns with one hand and kept the other at the hilt of his short sword. A large, hand-and-half broadsword was strapped to his back on top of his emerald green cloak, and a couple of daggers were at his side. He worse not the simple garb of a soldier but instead the elaborate robes of a noble lord. His face bore pleasant features, and a small smile was on his lips as they walked through the snow. He made no attempt to brush aside his long, unbraided, cinnamon-colored tresses which the wind blew into his face. His eyes, which were the same color as his hair, often glanced back at the taciturn, black-clad rider.

And on and on they sauntered though the snow.

"How much farther until the mountain pass, my lord?" inquired the grey-cloaked Elf politely, revealing absolutely no emotion in his voice.

"Um…" The green-clad Elf hesitated. "Judging form where we are now, I guess I would have to say, uh, I'm…not sure…"

"Forsooth, my lord," the other stated. "You have no idea where we are."

"None whatsoever," admitted the brunet Elf-lord with a sigh. He grinned wryly and turned to their younger companion. "Are you feeling alright, Your Majesty?"

The small rider raised is head, his daunting gaze now focused on the worried warrior. "I am fine, my Lord Eilen," he insisted softly, his voice sorrowful yet elegant, "as fine as I was when you asked that same question five minutes ago."

"Not too cold or tired or hungry or parched or dizzy or in pain or anything like that? Because we can always stop a rest, you know. I mean, we can't build a fire, and we don't have any shelter, and all our water's frozen, and we're starting to run out of food, and we can't change the temperature, and we don't— OW!" The Elf-lord's rambling had ceased due to his having slipped on a sheet of ice that had suddenly formed on top of the snow.

"Eilen, are you alright?" cried out the young Elf worriedly.

Eilen groaned and carefully picked himself off the cold ground. He glowered at the grey-cloaked Elf and grumbled accusingly, "Rilvaro, you did that, didn't you?"

"Did I what, Lord Eilendis?" asked Rilvaro emotionlessly.

"You put that ice there to trip me on purpose!"

"I did?" The apathetic Elf's drawl revealed nothing — no sarcasm, no innocence, no surprise, nothing. "Well, than you ever so much, my lord, for informing me of this, although I must say that I've far too much of a throbbing migraine to concentrate on misplacing ice crystals."

"I know 'twas you," Lord Eilendis muttered under his breath as they continued on. "What would give you a headache out here, anyway?"

"I can't imagine."

And thus they proceeded onward through the seemingly endless world of whiteness.


	2. Blatant Lies

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Middle Earth or J. R. R. Tolkien's amazing little mind. I wish I did, though because I love Middle Earth. I do, however, own everything from Elfwood and Merendor.**

**Well, I decided to post Chapter Two tonight in order to bring in the actual LOTR characters. Elrond, the twins, Glorfindel, Erestor, and Estel won't come in until much later. Actually...I'm not sure when they're entering... I haven't gotten to that chapter yet... Ah, well, must work! This chapter is much longer, btw.**

_**Elvarde**_

**Forlorn**

Chapter Two: Blatant Lies

It was several days later when they finally reached the mountain pass. The Misty Mountains stretched high above them into the lofty clouds. The freezing wind turned colder, carrying along with it a volley of snowdrifts and ice. Monstrous icicles curled toward the path like cruel claws outstretched to seize the unwary traveller. Lord Eilendis glanced uncertainly at them. Rilvaro raised one of his thin eyebrows slightly and queried in an apathetic tone, "My lord, are you positive this is the right place?"

"Yes," murmured Eilen in reply. "I recognize it, but it's just that, well, it looks much less, er, ominous in the springtime."

The small, dark-clad rider stiffened, his eyes darting to the sides. He tapped the Elf-lord on the shoulder. "I sense something," he whispered softly.

The other two Elves exchanged worried looks as their fingers moved instinctively to the hilts of their swords. "What is it?" asked Eilen.

A quaver ran through the child. "A group of people — well-armed," he responded. "I know not if they are friend or foe, but they are drawing close. I feel the presence of a scout nearby. They are Elves, mounted on horse. Many are archers, I think."

"How close are they?"

The boy closed his eyes and mumbled almost inaudibly, "Their scout is right behind us."

Immediately unsheathing their swords, the two warriors whirled around. Camouflaged in the shadows of the snow-covered rock crouched an Elf, cloaked and hooded, poised with a dagger. Nevertheless, skilled in the arts of tracking and espionage, Rilvaro's cold, ice-blue eyes easily discovered him. "Come out of hiding, spy," the dark-haired soldier taunted, "unless thou be a coward!"

The scout stood up, clutching his dagger, and glared fearlessly at them. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What is your purpose here?" The three refused to reply, and this angered the scout. "Speak! Speak, if you value your lives."

Eilen moved closer to the dark rider protectively. "We cannot give our names," the brunet Elf-lord answered reasoningly, "but I do assure you that we bear you no ill will. We are simply passing through."

"Indeed," muttered Rilvaro under his breath, for which he received a quick, reprimanding glare.

The fair-haired scout looked skeptical. "Then why, pray tell, are you following us?" he retorted.

"Huh?" Lord Eilendis was confused. "It appears that you are the one pursuing us, not the other way around." The black-clad rider inhaled sharply.

His grip tightening around the helve of the silvern dagger, the scout shook his head. "I am not asking for your names and business," he stated dangerously. "I am requiring them."

Rilvaro interpreted this as a threat and reacted upon impulse. He attacked the scout, who skillfully defended himself. Millennia of training proved their worth to Rilvaro, so he was able to disarm the scout and overpower him, rendering him helpless by twisting his arms painfully behind his back in a tight, vice-like grip. The fair-haired Elf struggled with all his strength but to no avail. "Don't!" cried out the small, dark-clad child at the same time that Eilen shouted, "Stop!"

The boy's warning was too late, however, for the struggling scout had already whistled a very shrill, high-pitched bird call that echoed off the lofty mountains. Both before them and behind them, mounted Elven-soldiers arrived with arrows nocked, completely surrounding the three travellers. They were trapped.

Reluctantly, Rilvaro released his grip on the scout. "Be quiet this time," hissed Lord Eilendis. Rilvaro nodded in acquiescence.

One fair-haired Elf with piercing, sapphirine eyes stepped forward, looking the prisoners over curiously. "Tarmion, who are these?" he inquired softly.

"I don't know, ernil nîn," the scout answered after recovering his fallen dagger. "They refuse to reveal anything, and when I persisted, they attacked me. I do not doubt that they are spies, Prince Legolas."

Eilen glanced at the mall rider, who gazed at him pleadingly. Then he nodded. "My name is Lord Dírnaith Eilendis," he declared. "We are of Merendor, a world separate from here, and do not care about the wars between your kingdoms here in Middle Earth. if we have been mistaken for spies, then you are entirely wrong, and I demand that you let us go." This was said boldly and confidently.

"You hail from Elfwood?"

"Aye."

Ire flared in the prince's silvery-blue eyes. "Then why should we believe you are not spies, since Elfwood is ruled by a tyrant whose minions murder mercilessly and do not uphold the old alliances?"

Eilen knew without looking that the young boy was trembling. Straining to keep his voice steady, the indignant Elf-lord replied, "When the throne was usurped, we were exiled from that realm. Personally, i would rather die the most slow and painful death ever known to Elfkind than serve that murderer!" Vehemence rose in his voice, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself before he could continue. "Nay, we no longer live there. I am only a healer now, and I seek the counsel of the Lord of Rivendell."

Legolas was undaunted. "If your mission is peaceful, why did you attack Tarmion?"

Dírnaith was starting to lose patience. "We only attacked because we were threatened!" he snapped. "You cannot hold us captive for defending ourselves!"

Legolas ignored this outburst, for now he was staring intently at the dark-clad rider, who was avoiding any eye contact. "Who are the other two, Lord Dírnaith?" he asked suspiciously.

Gesturing to the stony-faced Elf beside him, Eilen stated, "This is Rilvaro, Captain of the Guardsmen in my household."

"And the other?"

"My son," stammered Eilen hastily. Then, his cinnamon eyes hardened. "And who are you, who hold us prisoners in your distrust ad disrespect?"

The fair-haired Elven-prince glanced at the other soldiers. "We are emissaries from Mirwood," he replied coolly, "and I am Legolas Thranduillion. We do not trust strangers — particularly those who attack us. If you truly are not spies as you claim, tell us who you really are and what you're really doing in Middle Earth."

They did not comply.

Legolas turned to the other Wood-Elves. "Seize their weapons, and bind their hands," he ordered.

Rilvaro could not take this anymore. Brandishing a sword in each hand, he leapt forward and icily exclaimed, "If but one of you lays a hand on them, I'll kill every last one of you! Every last one!" Their captors pulled their bowstrings back further, preparing to fire, as their prince drew his pair of White Knives.

"DARO! STOP!" shouted a distressed voice loudly. "All of you, please stop!" The small boy had dismounted and stepped in between Rilvaro and Legolas. Although the large, black cloak, thick cowl, scarf, and gloves concealed him completely, his elegant yet sad voice could be heard clearly as he spoke, which was very forcefully. "That is enough of such pugilism! We said that we mean no harm, yet you maleficently assail us anyway. Be sure that we will defend ourselves if pressed, but we do not want to harm anyone. Therefore, you will lower your weapons while we lower ours, and we will treat each other decently! Honestly, I should think that Elves born of nobility would have better manners than what you have all displayed! These are indeed dark times. No, strangers should not be trusted lightly — to us, you are strangers, thus we do not trust you. Time are too dark to divulge secrets, yet how could you expect us to blurt out everything bout ourselves, especially when you shall not believe it anyway? Forgive my temerariousness, but that is quite hypocritical of you, considering that you blatantly lied to us!"

"I what!" gasped Legolas angrily. This child certainly knew how to be blunt.

EIlen leaned over and whispered to the boy, "I think that's enough. You'll get us into more trouble. Say, what do you mean by 'blatantly lied to us'?"

"What I mean," continued the child candidly, "is that you lied to us. You are not emissaries at all." At this, the Wood-Elves, having already lowered their weapons, looked at each other in fear, chagrin, and bewilderment, as their prince blanched in shock. Dírnaith and Rilvaro inched closer to the dark-clad boy in order to protect him better. "Why would you be representatives of your king, Thranduil Oropherion, if he himself is among you?"

There were many gasps at this. After dismounting, a tall, blond Elf brushed aside some of the soldiers and made his way over to his son, who looked just like him except that Thranduil's eyes were a darker blue. There was a slightly amused expression on his face. "How did you know?" asked the Elven-king.

The boy bowed reverently. "I recognized Your Royal Highness, since you did visit the palace in Elfwood two centuries ago," he explained. "Besides, why else would your soldiers behave so vehemently if not to protect their sovereign?"

Thranduil looked him over scrutinizingly. "Funny," he remarked, "I don't recognize you. Of course, it's rather hard to recognize someone when you can't see what they look like."

Eilen glared at him irately. "His eyes are sensitive to sunlight, alright?" he retorted. Rilvaro's ice-blue eyes glittered with a lethal sheen.

"I was not threatening him," assured Thranduil. He turned back to the black-clad, young Elf, who was now trembling slightly. "What's your name, boy?"

Eilen wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders and stated, "His name's Lorna." Rilvaro made no move other than glance frostily at his lord.

"I was asking him," said Thranduil, slightly annoyed.

The child bowed his head. "Lorna, Your Highness," he murmured.

"Well, Lorna Eilendis," the Elven-king continued after exchanging a strange look with his son, who shrugged, "I think you're right. We did act rather rashly, but as you said, times are dark. Perhaps we could start over?" His manner seemed cordial enough, yet Dírnaith and Rilvaro still were wary.

"Ada…" Legolas started to protest but then sighed.

"That would be better, I guess," replied Eilen. He held out his hand. "Hello, I am not a spy. Nice to see you again, Your Highness. Isn't the weather terrible?" He managed a tiny smile.

Thranduil shook his hand, yet there was still tension between the two. "So you are on your way to Imladris?" the blond Elf queried rhetorically. "We are as well. Perhaps we could travel together? The Misty Mountains are very dangerous — too dangerous for the three of you to be alone."

"Dangerous?" echoed Dírnaith, alarmed. His face had turned several shades whiter, and his eyes widened. Both of his arms were tightly wrapped around Lorna protectively as if he would never let go.

"Aye, dangerous," shrugged Thranduil nonchalantly. "There are Orcs and wargs and risks of avalanches and raiders and trolls and—"

"You've sufficiently terrified us," Rilvaro interrupted in his apathetic drawl. "Lord Eilendis, I advise you to turn down their oh-so-kind offer, although 'tis not my place. Do what thou wilt."

Dírnaith looked questioningly at Lorna, but the boy made no sign. The Elf-lord sighed. "Very well, Your Highness," he yielded, "but on one condition."

"Which is?"

"My son is not to be harmed. if any of you even attempts to hurt him in any way, I'll kill 'em. You have my word."

Thranduil nodded in acknowledgment. "I understand. No-one shall lay a hand on him." He lent spare horses to Eilen and Rilvaro, and then they were on their way through the cold, intimidating mountain pass. The Wood-Elves surrounded them, which made Rilvaro very suspicious. His glacial gaze swept over the soldiers, resting on Thranduil and his son.

The fair-haired Elven-king was deep in thought. It was not merely benevolence that had prompted him to make such an offer. He wanted to keep an eye on them. He knew that they were lying to him; he knew that they were hiding something very important. However, he could not figure out what these secrets might be. One thing was for sure: these three Merendor Elves were more than they claimed. Thranduil felt uneasy about this entire situation. He knew for a fact that Dírnaith had deceived him, for they had met when the former visited the Elfwood palace two centuries before along with Elrond of Rivendell and Celeborn of Lórien for a council, Dírnaith having been a courtier in Elfwood. Lord Eilendis and his wife, Lady Annë, had expressed their deep regret, during diner conversation, that they had not yet had a child.

Dírnaith Eilendis had no son.


	3. Friendship or Enmity?

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Middle Earth or J. R. R. Tolkien's amazing little mind. I wish I did, though because I love Middle Earth, especially Legolas and Frodo and Aragorn and Elrond and Thranduil and Erestor and Haldir and...well...a lot! I do, however, own everything from Elfwood and Merendor.**

**Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I was disheartened by the fewness of reviews, but this chapter is full of action! I promise! And the next one is really angsty!**

_**Elvarde**_

**Forlorn**

Chapter Three: Friendship or Enmity?

"Ada, if they're lying, then who are they?" Legolas asked, bewildered. "What do they want? What are they hiding?" It was late at night. The Elves had stopped for a rest against the slopes of the mountains. The watch had been set; a meager supper had been served; and most had gone to sleep. Thranduil, however, had drawn his son aside and shared his suspicions quietly.

"I don't know," he replied, "but I plan to find out."

"And what if it's not any of our business?"

"Then I'll make it our business!" Thranduil's deep blue eyes were cold and hard. "Ion nîn, when Elfwood's king was overthrown, the usurpers sent couriers to us, Imladris, and Lórien saying that if we made any interference, we would suffer the same fate that the late King Perya's family did — and our subjects would as well. Believe me when I say that Elfwood is wealthy enough to hire a mercenary army 100,000 strong. We wouldn't have a chance. If these three are here to, well, to frame us…"

"Then we'd better make sure they never report back to their sovereign," finished Legolas, fingering the silver hafts of his White Knives.

The twain turned their heads, eying the foreigners cautiously. Lord Eilendis was sleeping, while Rilvaro had offered to help with the watch, and the boy, shrouded in the folds of his black cloak, sat upon the ground as he stared into the distance in contemplation. Thranduil felt a small stab of conscience as he whispered to his son, "I think we have found just the right leverage to ensure that they never wrong us."

Legolas was shocked. "But we would never harm a mere chid," he protested, appalled at his father's suggestion. "Never!"

The Elven-king gestured for him to keep his voice down before responding with, "However, ion nîn, they seem to believe we would. Have you seen how protective they are of him? They're probably willing to die to keep him safe!"

"Aye…"

"But we won't go to that extreme unless we must," insisted Thranduil. "For now, let's watch them closely. Keep an eye on their every move. If we try to befriend them, they may drop their guard. Be very cautious, my dear son; we do not know how dangerous they are."

"I will, Ada," assented Legolas. "I will." He stood up and casually made his way over to the dark-clad boy. "Suilaid," he greeted, sitting down next to the taciturn child. "Lorna, correct?"

"Correct," murmured Lorna, his voice as soft a the breeze. His eyes lowered to the ground beneath the veiling cowl. "What do you want with me, Highness?"

The prince gave a cordial smile. "Well, for one thing, you can start calling me by my name," he suggested. "I never really liked my title much, anyways."

"Your name…" Lorna repeated slowly as if the concept were foreign to him. "As you wish, Prince Legolas, although I do find it strange that you should wish the friendship of your prisoners."

"You're not our prisoners!"

"Indeed?" The boy sounded unconvinced.

"Of course not!" cried Legolas indignantly. "It just made sense for us to travel together, as we're going to the same place." There was an awkward silence, and then Legolas decided to change the subject. "I wish the stars were out tonight. Their glistening light would ease my mind. Do you like the stars, Lorna?"

"I love them," answered the boy sadly. "They are beautiful. As you said, they would ease my mind tonight as well. I…I sense evil surrounding us." He shuddered.

"Pardon me?" Legolas asked sharply.

Lorna stood up. "Alert your guards," he requested hastily. "I can feel the presence of some type of wolves, only much more evil. Hurry!" Almost immediately, their keen, pointed ears discerned the sound of howling. Soldiers drew arms and awoke their sleeping companions. Thranduil unsheathed his sword as Tarmion the scout came running into the encampment.

He shouted, "Wargs! To arms! Wargs!"

Thranduil yelled, "How many!"

"I sense three score of them," stated Lorna as the howling became louder and more increased. The others looked at him oddly.

"What's going on?" Dírnaith queried wearily, whom Rilvaro has just woken up. "What's happening?"

With an indifferent gesture, Rilvaro uttered completely emotionlessly, "We're under attack by some sort of monsters, I suppose, which will tear out our entrails and devour our still-living flesh, while our screams soar into the night sky and forever haunt this place, ever echoing off the mountains." He drew his sword. "Well, are you going to just stand there, horrified, or are we going to defend ourselves?"

The moon and stars were veiled by clouds, while the snow-covered ground prevented any fire, so the night was lightless. The soldiers formed a ring and waited for the attack. It came very suddenly, when the first warg sprang into the air with a snarl before falling dead, pierced by a volley of arrows. The wards came from all sides, bounding agilely down the rocks. The Elves fired arrows after arrows at the wolfish beasts, yet they advanced still.

Eventually the wargs came too close for arrows, so swords and white knives were then wielded. The wargs were dividing the Elves into several small groups through their attacks. The mangled bodies of their few victims leaked blood onto the snow. The air was filled with the sounds of screams, snarls, and howling.

Thranduil fought valiantly as the wargs cornered him against the slope of the rocks. Four wargs stood on the precipice above, ready to jump down upon their prey. Ignoring the helplessness of escape, the Elven-king continued to fend off the wargs as much as possible. One of the wargs above fells atop him, its weight pinning him to the ground. "Ack," he groaned as his face was splattered by its blood. An arrow was embedded in its throat.

"Ada?" asked Legolas fearfully as he dragged the warg's corpse off his father. He helped Thranduil to his feet. "Ada, are you--"

"Hannon le," mumbled the fair-haired Elven-king quickly before rushing back into the mêlée.

Rilvaro and Eilen's sole focus was to protect Lorna. The three companions were, like Thranduil, trapped against the rock wall. The boy held a short sword but was prevented from using it by Eilen's having shoved him against the rock in order to keep him out of the wargs' reach. Rilvaro slashed left and right with his swords, his face calm and cold as if warding off attacks by wargs were perfectly easy. Lord Eilendis was frantic, however. Although he was a skilled warrior, he had never even seen wargs before, and therefore, he felt terrified that they might harm the child he had vowed to keep safe. He fought courageously, but as his focus was on Lorna, he neglected his own personal safety.

Three wargs leapt on top of Eilen, forcing him to the ground. With vicious growls, their yellowed fangs tore into his flesh as their claws ripped into him. Their saliva-dripping tongues lapped up his blood. The Elf-lord winced in pain but did not scream.

Lorna, however, could not hold back a horrified cry. He ran to Eilen's side and raised his sword to fights. The wargs stopped and turned to the boy. Every warg there was now staring at Lorna, their amber eyes gleaming evilly. The child stumbled backwards in fright.

Then, the wargs attacked him and him alone.

Rilvaro nimbly dashed over to them and shielded the boy with his body. The dark-haired warrior's ice-blue eyes lifted to the snow-encrusted mountain slopes. Ice and snow came tumbling down, burying everyone. Then, although there was no wind, the swirling, white flurry was swept away by some invisible force back onto the mountaintops. Rilvaro collapsed to the ground, closing his eyes with a groan. His arms enclasped Lorna tightly.

The wargs were frozen in place by layers of ice.

The Wood-Elves stared in shock at this. Then their bewildered gazed turned to the three Merendor Elves. Dírnaith was standing and trying to make sure the others were alright. "Are you positive?" he asked.

"I'm fine!" insisted Lorna. "But you-- you were hurt!"

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Eilen reassured, placing a hand comfortingly on the boy's shoulder. "Are you sure you're alright? Are you very sure?"

"Hello, I'm dying down here," remarked Rilvaro in that same drawl of his.

"No!" cried out Lorna. He placed his hands on Rilvaro's wounds inflicted by the wargs. There was a brilliant, silver flash, and when this faded, the child was embracing Rilvaro. "I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

"Just a little dizzy." The dark-haired guardsman motioned to the mountaintops. "That took a lot out of me."

Lorna started to cry. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! This is all my fault! Why didn't I sense them sooner?"

Eilen gave the child a consoling embrace. "Everything's alright...as long as you're safe," he said firmly. "Nothing else matters."

Rilvaro nodded in agreement. "Nothing." He stood up, and after sheathing their weapons, the three companions returned to the Wood-Elves. All three of them were completely unscathed.


End file.
